


Lien

by NamelesslyNightlock, Rabentochter



Series: Veni, Vedi, Witcher [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Attraction, Blacksmith Tony Stark, Feels, First Meetings, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Is A Little Shit, Loki (Marvel) is Not Amused, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark is not Amused, Witcher Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: When Tony’s woken up in the dead of the night by someone knocking on the door of his forge, he’s prepared to tear whoever it is a new one– Witcher or not, he needs hissleep.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Veni, Vedi, Witcher [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588387
Comments: 29
Kudos: 396





	Lien

**Author's Note:**

> We said there'd be more.  
>   
> Art by **Rabentochter** , fic by **NamelesslyNightlock.**

Being woken up in the dead of the night is never fun– and when the waking is being done by a heavy fist slamming against the door to the shop, it made Tony downright _livid._ He wrapped a coat over his shoulders as he stormed down the stairs to the shop below his living space, grateful at least that he’d gone to bed in his clothes after a gruelling day of working the forge– and when he reached the door he threw it open with a plan to rip the person on the other side at least a new one, if not completely to shreds.

But then his gaze landed upon one of the most interesting… and one of the most beautiful people that he had ever seen.

The man was tall, far more so than your average human– and well, uh, if he were being honest Tony would have to admit that he was a _little_ on the shorter side himself, if you get his meaning. The man’s hair was dark as night and half pulled up, and his skin, decorated with silvery scars, was so pale he looked near like a corpse– but the inhuman green glow of his eyes, far brighter than what could be explained by the reflection from Tony’s lamp, proved otherwise.

As did the first words that snapped from his lips in a deep, demanding growl.

“I need a sword.”

“And I need my sleep,” Tony replied, narrowing his eyes. No matter how pretty this guy was, Tony wasn’t going to set a precedent of just _letting_ people wake him up in the middle of the night. He was about to add something else, something a little harsher—

But then, his gaze landed on the pendant that the man was wearing around his neck. It was round and dark silver in colour, a little tarnished from age– but it was the image of a wolf’s head splashed across it that had Tony’s breath catching and his heart skipping a beat. But he forced himself to remain calm, and he gave no outward indication that his annoyance had shifted to interest as he said– “And besides. I thought you guys fought with silver.”

“When we kill monsters, yes,” the _Witcher_ replied– and the words were innocuous enough, but Tony could sense enough of a threat in them that he cleared his throat.

“So what happened to it, then?” Tony asked. “Did you break—”

“I lost it.” Those green eyes bore into Tony’s as if the Witcher was _daring_ him to make fun.

And maybe the smarter thing to do would have just been to shut up, but—

“Where’d you lose it?” Tony asked, unable to curb that insatiable curiosity that had got him into trouble plenty of times in the past.

“In the belly of a selkiemore,” the Witcher replied. “I cut my way out, but selkiemore flesh is tough and difficult to pull a sword from, while the blood is rather slippery. And unfortunately… the monster’s body slipped to the bottom of the lake before I was able to retrieve my blade. So I will need you to forge me a new one.”

“Ah, that sucks,” Tony said. “But… then, why are you asking _me_ to make you one? I thought Witcher’s weaponry was pretty exclusive.”

The Witcher looked a little like he’d sucked on a lemon, but his logic did make sense as he rather impatiently explained his predicament. As it turned out, the Witcher had been hired to kill a creature that only roamed during the full moon– and as the moon was full that very night, he needed a new sword _immediately_ or he would have to wait a full month.

It was a feat that would be impossible, but… Tony was never one to back down from a challenge.

“It won’t be a perfect sword, not even close. Not when you’re only giving me a few hours—”

“One.”

Tony blinked. “I, uh. Look, a sword, a _good sword_ would normally take me at least half a week. I can do one in a day if I don’t sleep and you don’t care if it’s fucking shitty, but– an hour? For a _sword?”_

“Just get me something silver then,” the Witcher insisted. “Something that I can use to kill a monster.”

“I have a few knives in the back,” Tony sighed. “There’s been a bit of a demand here, recently. Will that do, or will you be needing something more?”

“It is better than nothing, I suppose,” the Witcher replied. He followed Tony into the shop and watched as Tony retrieved the small pile of silver knives he had already made, those green eyes flicking over the weapons with practiced interest. Tony half expected him to ask a question– but it seemed that the Witcher was not one for idle chatter.

“Better than _nothing?”_ Tony asked, to break the silence as much as anything else. “You know, I’m the best smith on the continent—”

“We’ll see.” The Witcher took the knives and looked one over, the pulled back his arm and—

“Hey, _wait—!”_

—threw it into the far wall.

“They’ll do,” the Witcher said. Then he stepped across the room to retrieve the knife, pulling it from the wall and leaving a rather noticeable hole in the wood. 

“I’m going to have to fix that,” Tony said, tone a little incredulous.

“Yes, I suppose you are.”

Tony continued gaping at the man as he slid the knives into his belt and turned to the door– and he was already halfway out when Tony pulled himself together enough to realise—

“Hey, Witcher—”

“My name is Loki.”

“Loki, then. You do still need to pay for those—”

“If I am still alive come sunrise, I will return with payment,” Loki replied. “And if I am not, then I suppose you may collect them from my corpse once the moon has set.”

Tony knew he didn’t have a single chance in hell at stopping a Witcher– knew that if the Loki took his stuff and left the town to never return, Tony would just have to bloody live with it. But, uh. He’d always been a little reckless—

And maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world, but he hurried after the man and gripped his arm just before he reached the door, causing the Witcher to stop in his tracks.

“I am not letting you leave without some kind of assurance that you’re going to come back,” Tony said firmly, his voice instilled with far more confidence than he was feeling.

But Loki merely arched a brow at that, and– Tony couldn’t help but glean the impression that the man might be just a little impressed. His voice still didn’t change much, though.

“Something like what?”

“Something that I know you’re going to come back for.” Tony narrowed his eyes as he ran his gaze over Loki’s form, looking for… “How about this?” he asked, touching his fingers to the silver medallion that the Witcher wore around his neck—

Loki’s hand gripped Tony’s wrist tight enough that it hurt.

“Do you know what that is?” Loki hissed. “I will not hand such a thing over to—”

“Oh, so you don’t trust me to hold on to something precious to you?” Tony asked. “It’s not like I’m going to be able to _sell_ it. Come back in the morning, _Loki._ Bring back my knives, and I’ll give you back your pendant.”

They stood thus for a second that stretched to an eternity, their gazes locked together, Tony’s hand on the wolf’s head medallion and Loki’s around his wrist—

And then slowly, Loki let go, and lifted the chain over his head.

As he pressed the medallion into Tony’s hand, his eyes seemed to burn with deadly threat. “If you lose this…”

“Between the two of us, who has recently lost something rather important?” Tony asked. Then, when Loki narrowed his eyes– “Never mind. Just… I promise I won’t, okay? And you’re _going_ to come back from it. Even if you don’t have your sword, you’ll kill that monster.”

Loki blinked at that, as if he hadn’t expected those words at all. Tony hadn’t either, to be entirely honest– he wasn’t sure why he’d said it. Except perhaps, for how easily that Loki had talked about becoming a corpse earlier, as if he were all too used to people not caring.

And suddenly… Tony wondered what it must be like, to live a life of constant danger where people paid you to stand between them and a monster. Tony wondered… when the last time Loki had someone who cared.

And in that moment, he didn’t think about why _he_ cared, or why he felt for this man that he had only just met– this man that everyone on the continent believed was part monster himself. Instead, he merely reached out with the hand not holding the medallion, and took Loki’s hand in his own.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” Tony said. “I want my knives back, you know.”

And maybe Tony was imagining things, but– somewhere in the middle of the complete and utter bewilderment that was crossing Loki’s face, Tony thought he might have spotted the beginnings of a smile.

“You’ll get them,” Loki replied.

“I know.” Tony smiled himself, and as he let go of Loki’s hand, he gave one last plea. “Come back.”

Loki stared at him for a moment longer than necessary. “I will.”

And then he turned, swept across the threshold, and melted back out into the night. Tony moved into the doorway, and he watched the shift in the darkness as Loki climbed up onto a horse that was as dark as the shadows themselves.

Tony watched as Loki leaned down to whisper something to the horse, and then the pair of them were on their way—

And he saw as Loki glanced back, those bright green eyes catching his own with a determined gleam.

Feeling too awake and too worked up now to try and get back to sleep, Tony moved instead for his tools, wanting something to occupy his hands. As he went, he slipped the medallion over his head and inside his shirt– and then he pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the hard metal circle through the thin material.

He wasn’t worried. Loki _would_ be back in a few hours, Tony knew it. And in the meantime, maybe… he’d get started on making a sword made of silver.

He _was_ the best smith on the continent, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> When Loki comes back, Tony manages to convince him to stay long enough to make a sword– which Loki continues to use for years. Tony knows this, because Loki keeps on coming back, like a cockroach, never leaving for long, always needing something or the other fixed, and joking about how Tony still hadn’t fixed the hole in the wall– and eventually, there’s one time when Loki stays the night, and maybe there’s only one bed.  
>   
> And, well. After that, there’s nothing on heaven or earth – or in hell, for that matter – that could have kept the Witcher from returning to his blacksmith until the end of their days.  
>   
> And you can find the art for this fic on tumblr [here!](https://rabentochter.tumblr.com/post/190211792384/lien-another-witcher-au-with)


End file.
